


Man or Animal

by stayingputwouldbeablunder



Series: So Are We Brutal Hearts [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Feels, M/M, Marking, Mentions of knotting, Oops, Scenting, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stayingputwouldbeablunder/pseuds/stayingputwouldbeablunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's three in the morning and Stiles can't find himself to care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man or Animal

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that escalated quickly. I'm not big on writing smut because I'm not very good at it but I wrote this towards the end of writing 'Where Eagles Have Been' because of reasons. So yeah, enjoy this smutty little ficlet. It's not super explicit but I rather rate up than down.

There are times when Stiles likes to take things slow, with soft caresses and whispered sweet nothings between kisses. Where there’s a soft bed and a pile of blankets and the bruises he gets are from Derek and not the surface he’s pressed up against. Where there’s a functioning shower and fresh towels, not musky rags left by the sink as an afterthought.

Then there are times like this, when Derek has him shoved up against a crumbling wall of his house, the wood around them creaking from pressure. It’s three in the morning and Stiles can’t find himself to care.

He needs this. He needs something to ground him, to keep him from slipping into the panic attack he’s been fighting off for the past week. The Alphas could have killed him. Could have killed Scott. Could have killed Derek. _Derek_.

The man is biting bruises into his neck, hands prying the belt free from his jeans. Stiles doesn’t even care that this is illegal, that if his father were to catch them he would throw Derek in jail. He stopped caring about four months ago when the Alphas kidnapped Erica and Boyd, wounded them so deeply it took them days to heal when they finally sent them back to their alpha. He stopped caring when Derek said fuck it and kissed him in the back seat of the Camaro while Stiles was tying a makeshift splint to keep from using his dislocated left arm.

Stiles should care that they are both a mess, covered in dirt and blood. Half of his shirt is lying somewhere in the woods and Derek is bleeding through the leg of his jeans. But it doesn’t matter because the alpha is pulling his jeans down by their belt loops and shrugging down his own, surging up to lift Stiles back onto what is left of a tiled kitchen counter.

He’s moaning before he realizes it, mostly because Derek’s biting a hickey into his neck that no hoodie is going to be able to hide. If he were anywhere else he’d care; there is no way the Sheriff is going to miss that. But he doesn’t. He consented to this long before Derek ever made a move and Stiles will never want anyone else to touch him the way Derek does.

There’s a rustle of a lube packet being ripped open and for that alone Stiles opens his eyes. He knows what to expect: Derek’s irises blown wide, flickering between red and hazel, lips puffy, nostrils flared. He’s greeted with a cocky smirk and Stiles bites his lip when Derek’s fingers press lightly against his hole. He isn’t really sure where the lube came from but even as turned on as he is, saliva won’t cut it. Stiles keens when Derek presses the first finger in, clutching his shoulders, biting his own marks into the alpha’s neck.

He knows Derek wants to be rough with him, to make him forget that there is an entire pack of Alphas lurking around Beacon Hills for the sole purpose of destroying his pack. They’ve come after Stiles already, on a day when he was out with Lydia: the only reason they made it out of that disaster was Lydia having a Molotov cocktail in the trunk of her car. They’ve come after every member of the pack, tried to kill them, almost succeeded with Erica.

And because Stiles just spent the past two hours running through the woods armed with only a baseball bat and a half empty baggie of mountain ash, he needs this. Needs Derek to keep him from slipping into a frantic mess, needs the burn of Derek fucking him, needs Derek just as badly as the alpha needs Stiles in return. It’s something Derek will never admit but Stiles knows is true: someone as wounded and damaged as Derek should never be able to trust anyone after Kate Argent but the alpha trusts Stiles for some ungodly reason and the teenager will take anything he can from the man.

The noises Derek’s fingers are making are obscene. They twist and stretch and press in just the right places and Stiles wants to cry because it feels wonderful. Derek pulls him to edge of the counter before chuckling, deep and low; the noise goes right to his dick. Stiles shivers, pulls the alpha close to kiss him, reaches out to stroke Derek’s cock. The man growls and bats his hand away before lining up with Stiles’ hole and pushing in until he’s bottomed out.

Stiles starts begging, talking dirty because he wants Derek to fuck him like it’s the end of the world. And he will, because one way or another he always does when they are both high on adrenaline. Derek will fuck him until Stiles comes from barely being touched, fuck him through it, milking his cock and rubbing his come into his skin, fuck him until he’s hard again. Stiles will be wet and sloppy for him, just like the man likes, and then, when he is on the brink of coming again, the alpha will knot him. That Stiles wants it, will come from being stretched far beyond what his body should allow, will cling to Derek while the man scents his neck between marking him; that is how Stiles knows what little sanity he has left is gone.

When it’s all said and done, after Derek’s knot has gone down and he’s slipped from Stiles’ body, he kisses the teenager softly. It’s such a contrast to how things were a few minutes ago, Stiles laughs. He makes a face when he squirms down off the counter, come dripping from his hole and down his thigh, and gives the alpha the best reprimanding look he can offer before Derek kisses him again. As nice as it is it doesn't change the fact his ass is numb from the counter and his hips are throbbing from newly pressed bruises.

He had opted for condoms the first few times, knowing they were both clean and free of diseases; Derek hadn’t liked it and Stiles set an ultimatum. And then one morning, after a night Stiles told his father he was spending at Scott’s, Derek woke him up with apologetic kisses across his chest, mouthing over still sensitive scars Kali left three weeks before. They had taken their time, going through the motions half asleep, basking in affection. When it finally came to Derek easing his way inside Stiles, there was no question of whether to use a condom or not. It was intimate and amazing and most importantly it felt _right_ without one.

Derek didn’t knot him that morning. Instead, he kissed him softly, like what they were doing was as real a relationship as Scott and Allison’s, like Stiles wouldn’t go home in a few hours and regret it not being the same. Derek pulled pain from Stiles’ sternum, hovering over the pink scars before pressing his fingers against them gently, whispering an apology into the teenager’s neck. Derek was _everything_ , just everything, and Stiles fell in love.

He doesn’t know if this will keep after the Alphas leave, if Derek will still want him when they’re not in peril danger and there aren’t ravenous werewolves running the town. The selfish part of him hopes that something else will come along, something that keeps Derek trusting him. The sane part of his brain says that’s unhealthy but Stiles ignores it. He wants Derek now and he’ll want Derek five years from now. He’s the end all be all of Stiles’ romantic conquests, numbering in total of one - Lydia - and as frightening as that should be, it seems like the easiest thing in the world.

Scott is going to yell at him when he finally gets back home, where he’s probably waiting, because he’ll reek of Derek and sex. His father is going to give him the disappointed look he’d sported for a month after he finally told him about the werewolves. The next time he sees Erica she’ll probably rib him into giving her details and then smirk. Lydia will roll her eyes, tell him he better be careful, then threaten Derek because the bruises on Stiles’ neck will look like they intended to change him, not mark him as spoken for. Allison will do the same, just with less threatening and more cautious smiles because they have only recently reached the point of being comfortable with one another again. Jackson will be an asshole because that’s how he is but mostly leave him alone. Isaac will probably fuss at him, complain about the loft reeking because Derek didn’t immediately shower when he came home, then demand snuggling because Stiles is his go to cuddle buddy. Boyd won’t say anything because he’s Boyd and honestly does not give a single fuck. Stiles likes Boyd.

There’s an easy silence as they get dressed, wiping the remnants of come on the inside of their clothes and the decaying wood around them. Stiles tells Derek he needs to start fixing the house up because he can only pull off being the good looking guy with a modern loft for so long and Derek tells him to shut up before pushing him toward their cars. Stiles just laughs again and pulls his keys from his pocket. There’s a flare of pain in his ass when he does and he watches Derek grin predatorily.

They stand between their cars, Derek telling Stiles to call him once he gets home before scenting his neck one last time, nipping at the freshest of his marks. Stiles calls him one of his overused nicknames before stepping towards the Jeep, hands lingering on the alpha’s arms before falling away reluctantly. Derek quirks a rare smile and slips into the Camaro without another word. 

Stiles drives home singing along to Bob Marley and there’s nothing in the world that can take that from him.

**Author's Note:**

> Two things:  
> 1\. This is the last explicit thing I write for a while.  
> 2\. Unsafe sex, whoops. For me, I think it comes down to a certain level of trust.
> 
> Logically, I know this doesn't make much sense. Oh well.
> 
> The title is from the song "Man or Animal" by Audioslave.
> 
> UPDATE: now part of a series with the companion fic [_I Want To Fall Back Into You_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/913001).
> 
> Feel free to come say hello on my [tumblr](http://stayingputwouldbeablunder.tumblr.com)!


End file.
